


Something Old, Something New

by bobakiin



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Immortality, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:01:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24179374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bobakiin/pseuds/bobakiin
Summary: What happens to Heroes who cannot die?Arlen, watchung hundreds of years pass by, decides to return to Skyrim.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Something Old, Something New

Arlen got off the plane, taking a moment to stop and look out the large windows of Helgen International Airport. The small settlement that had been destroyed by Alduin was now a prosperous city, with no traces of the World Eater's attack. Of course, it had been several hundred years. Had a millennia already passed? It was getting harder to keep track of time. 

"Are you sure you want to fly all the way to Helgen?" Kadeth had asked them over a video call, while they were booking their ticket. "Markarth is closer. Or, I could teleport you there, and save you eight hours." Arlen shook their head. 

"I want to start the way I did back in the 4th Era." They explained. "No Daedric magic."

Well, it wasn't exactly like the way it had happened back then. They were flying from Daggerfall, instead of running from Bruma. Which was now a 30 minute drive from Helgen, instead of the hour and a half it had taken them to slog through the Jerall Mountains. And instead of a talkative Nord across from them, it was a tiny screen playing the most popular movies of...whatever year it was. There were no horse thieves, no gagged leader of a rebellion. Just the snoring of the businessman next to them, and the babbling of a child in the row behind theirs.

Eventually, Arlen looked away from the window and made their way to baggage claim with the other passengers. Once they stood out in every crowd they were in with their unusual hair, now they blended right in among a sea of blues, purples, even rainbows. In the past they had been accused of being a Daedra, now people just asked where they had dyed their hair.

"C.V's." They told anyone who asked. "It's a tiny salon in Hammerfell." 

Tamriel had certainly changed, but some parts stayed the same. Now there were technologies the Dwemer would have killed for, and the White-Gold Tower was no longer the tallest building on the continent. But the people largely remained the same, worshipping the same gods, playing the same instruments, living in the same places. 

But for the most part, the Heroes had long faded from memory. Weather had eroded Kadeth's statue in Bruma until the face was unrecognizable, and Arlen only saw their name in museums and the occasional TIL post on the internet. And yet, where did legends go when they could not die?

Kadeth spent most of his time in the Shivering Isles. Daedric Prince worship was only getting more and more popular, especially with teenagers. Apparently he had been summoned on rainy days for more than one TikTok. But he took care to maintain the human part of him, often visiting Arlen, taking them to the Imperial City where they'd pray together in front of the stone dragon that remained in the center of the Temple District, and visited the graves of their family members.

Mother, brother, children, grandchildren. All long gone. Vincent's child had never had kids, but that was alright. The Setone bloodline would live on, as it's last two members literally couldn't die.

When not in the Imperial City, Arlen usually stayed in a tiny apartment in Daggerfall. No one questioned the tenant in apartment 1207, who stayed young while babies who were born in the building grew old and had kids of their own. People probably assumed they were a vampire.

"It's  _ weird!" _ Babette had exclaimed, her voice loudly coming out of Arlen's phone while they made kimchi fried rice for dinner. "For how long, people were scared of us, and now we're the hottest thing ever! Well, not  _ me _ , but you know what I mean. Of course, contracts still get scared, but that's because I'm going to kill them." 

Even the Brotherhood had become more modernized, with contracts being distributed through encrypted networks. Though of course, the devotion to Sithis and his Unholy Matron remained. Babette had become the new Listener, after Arlen had decided to step down. They were still welcome in the Sanctuary, and even accepted the occasional contract when they were bored. 

Of course, they hadn't told Babette about their plans to visit Skyrim. Not yet, anyways. Arlen didn't know if they had the courage to go to Dawnstar, knowing most of their friends weren't there anymore. Cicero, Arena...Nazir. Nazir, who they still mourned as if he had died yesterday and not centuries ago. 

As for being bored... they always were. Though they weren't alone, in feeling this way.

Arlen had bumped into the Nerevarine solely by accident at the cafe above the local department store.

"It's nice, being forgotten." Areslyn had laughed. Dressed in a white collar shirt with black slacks, he looked like every other office worker in High Rock, rather than the reincarnation of Nerevar himself. "I don't have Dunmer cursing my name everytime I pass them in the streets. Instead, they're happy to see one of their kind here. But it is boring, sitting at a desk all day after 

_ It's nice, being forgotten. _ Arlen replayed the phrase in their head, as the taxi they were in sped past achingly familiar pine trees. Though of course, they weren't the same trees. And the driver, talkative as he was, wasn't the red haired soldier they had walked with, down the dirt path that had long since been replaced with a highway.

"Up there is Bleak Falls Barrow." The man explained, nodding to the large stone structure that still stood at the top of the mountain. "Place used to give me nightmares as a kid, I don't see how it's become a tourist attraction."

_ I was in there, once _ . Arlen felt like telling him.  _ Back when the place was filled with draugr moans instead of tourist chatter, and you had to fight your way in instead of handing the guy at the door five septims.  _ But instead, they settled for nodding along, pretending they didn't know the province they had spent so long in. 

The taxi stopped in Riverwood, where the roofs were no longer straw, and there were more than five houses. Still, it was nowhere near as modern as Helgen.

"I hear they're shooting a historical drama here." The driver grunted as he lifted Arlen's suitcase out of the trunk. "Based on some love story that took place about 70 years ago."

_ There was a love story that took place in Skyrim way before that.  _ Arlen thought. One that would not ever be televised, but they didn't need a TV when they could still see each moment as if they were still there. They could never stand those romantic shows. It was disgust at cheap cliches, they had told Miraak, as they ate popcorn with too much butter on it.

"I think there's another reason for your hatred." Miraak said, as he looked through the horror movies. Arlen shrugged, but they knew what he meant. It was envy. After all, all these happy couples on TV, would die eventually. But at least they would be reunited in Aetherius, or Sovngarde, or wherever they believed in. Arlen never got that luxury.

"So, that'll be 20 septims." The driver's voice brought Arlen back to the present. Nodding, they gave him the money, as well as an extra ten septims in tips. "Welcome to Skyrim!" The man called as he drove off.

Arlen looked around. The air was a little less pure than they remembered, and the Riverwood Trader had been replaced with a 7-11 while the spot where Alvor and Sigrid's house once stood was now a daycare. But in the distance they could see High Hrothgar proudly rising up, taller than even the skyscrapers in the Imperial City. And as they squinted, they saw two familiar shapes circle the sky. 

"Sorry!" A teenage boy apologized as he bumped into Arlen, before turning back to his friend. "Okay, so like i was saying, we could paint some paper towel rolls white and stick them to Dusty, then boom! Frostbite Spider!"

"No one is going to believe that…" 

Arlen couldn't help but smile. Many things had changed, but just as many things had stayed the same. They took one last look up at High Hrothgar, wondering if Odahviing and Paarthurnax could sense their return.

They whispered a greeting, childishly hoping for a second that the wind would carry their message all the way up to the Throat of the World.

"Drem yol lok, Paarthurnax, Odahviing."

Then:

"I'm home." 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> i don't know what this is


End file.
